


Teaching is the best way to learn

by Mierke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/pseuds/Mierke
Summary: Dumbledore asks Hermione to take some of the Potions' classes off Snape's hands.





	Teaching is the best way to learn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adonais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adonais/gifts).



> Happy birthday (technically it's still the 19th, even where you are...)! Thirty perfect drabbles (according to wordcounter.net) for thirty years. I am so very grateful you're alive, and I can count on you to always be a part of my life.

"Please sit down," the headmaster said, and Hermione sat down in the chair he provided. The year had only just started; surely she hadn't done anything to warrant being in trouble yet.

"I need your help," professor Dumbledore confessed. "I presume you are familiar with the concept of the baby boom?"

At Hermione's nod, he continued: "We've been experiencing something similar, which means Hogwarts is overflowing. Professor Snape could use your help."

"Professor Snape, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"The Potions classes are proving too much for one person. Since you are of legal age, I want you to be his assistant."

\--

"These are my lesson plans," Professor Snape said. "I expect you to follow them to the letter."

"Of course, professor," Hermione answered. She definitely wasn't planning on diverging from the official path. After all, it had taught her perfectly well, and she was pretty sure even Neville had learned a thing or two. She bit her tongue to keep herself from asking if he expected her to be as cruel as well; both because the question seemed mean, and because she was pretty sure she didn't want to know the answer.

She'd carve her own way, thank you very much.

\--

Alone in the classroom, waiting for her first students to arrive, the first tendrils of panic tugged at Hermione.

She wasn't cut out for this. She knew stuff, sure, but people didn't want her teaching them. She was a nobody, a know-it-all, she wasn't a teacher! How could she keep an eye on twenty students at the same time? All she knew was books, not people!

She dropped the chalk she'd been using to write on the board, and sat down on the teacher's desk. She could hardly think, she couldn't breathe. Dizziness overtook her and she found herself falling.

\--

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, and Hermione realised it wasn't the first time he had called her name. She lifted her head to see him standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob as if hesitant to come in.

Their eyes met, and for a moment Hermione thought she saw sympathy in his gaze.

"You don't have to be me," he said, his voice softer than Hermione thought it could go. "The students would probably prefer you weren't. If you need guidance, emulate your favourite teacher. That's what worked for me."

He was gone before Hermione could thank him.

\--

Her first class ever were the first-year Hufflepuffs. They looked around in wonder, their voices just a little bit too excited to be called whispering.

Hermione took a deep breath. She had been enraptured by Professor Snape's speech as a first-year... She tucked that memory away; there was no way she could be as captivating as him. Emulating her favourite teacher seemed like a great idea, but she simply wasn't as intimidating as Professor McGonagall. Her heart lay probably in the middle - Professor Snape's passion with Professor McGonagall's care and professionalism.

"Potions," she started, "is an interesting branch of magic..."

\--

She was giddy with the success of her first lesson. Euphoria had her almost dancing through the classroom, and she didn't even stop when Professor Snape came in.

"I see it went well," he said, and she thought she detected a hint of a smile.

"It did," she said, nodding along. "I'm off for Ancient Runes now, unless you need me for something else...?"

"I brought you my own copies of the textbook," he said. "They're... much improved."

Something sacred seemed to settle over the room as she accepted the annotated texts.

"I'll take good care of them," she promised.

\--

When the time came for her own lesson, Hermione had a better grasp on the subject than ever before. Thanks to Professor Snape's insights, she now understood concepts she had previously just known. A vague idea had been blooming to use his remarks to rewrite the syllabus, but she'd need his approval.

As he looked in on her potion at the end of the period, finding nothing wrong with it, but still unable to give her a compliment, she realised that day would be far off.

That didn't matter so much, though.

She had all the time in the world.

\--

Her class had just handed in their first essays, and she looked a little despondently at the stack on her desk.

"I would like to check your grading," Professor Snape said, and Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. He merely lifted an eyebrow, and she blushed.

"Of course," she said, and added before she lost her nerve: "Could we do it together, sir? Grading, I mean? I don't really want to take these into our Common Room."

"That would probably be wise," he said, after a beat in which Hermione had no idea what he was thinking. "Follow me."

\--

Grading together had been surprisingly comfortable. At one point, she'd almost destroyed one of her essays in disgust.

"Do you ever wish to erase one of these from your mind?" she'd asked instead, not really expecting a response. He'd surprised her with a smile, asking what had her so worked up.

"Pewter cauldrons," she quoted. "Are obviously the best. Otherwise we'd all be brewing in gold. Everyone who tries to convince you otherwise, is simply after your money. Go pewter!"

He had quoted some material back at her, and for a moment, she'd felt like an adult, like she mattered.

\--

"What are you working on, sir?"

She had been watching for a while now, mesmerised by how in tune with his work Professor Snape was. It was... magical, she thought, then rolled her eyes at her internal cheesiness. She'd assumed he knew she was there, but the look on his face as he heard her suggested otherwise.

"Get out," he said, his eyes not straying from his cauldron. "I don't want you here."

"I could help," Hermione offered through the lump in her throat.

"I neither want nor need your help," he said through gritted teeth. "Get. Out."

Hermione fled.

\--

"Can you believe it?" Hermione asked, pacing through her common room.

Ron and Harry just shared a look, smart enough to keep quiet.

"I know, greasy git and all, you warned me, blah blah blah," Hermione answered their unvoiced thoughts anyway. "But he's been... decent! We've been civil and he's been helping and I've learned so much and guys, he is so utterly brilliant!"

"'Mione"? Ron asked. "What's going on? You sound like you're halfway in love with him or something."

Wide-eyed, Hermione stared at her friend, unable to form any words.

For the second time that day, she fled.

\--

She had been distracted. Stupid. Potentially deadly. She knew. 

But she had been.

The Potions classroom was a mess, Hermione in the middle of it, surveying the damage. The students had left well over half an hour ago, and still she stood there, unable to formulate a plan to right the things she had wronged. 

The poisonous spills she had already removed, but the rest of it?

"That's what detention is for," Professor Snape said. Hermione looked up as he entered the room, seemingly unperturbed by the chaos. How could he look so calm?

"It was my fault," she whispered.

\--

She was sitting on a chair, a mug of steaming tea in her hand. If she weren't still aching, she would have been giddy at the look inside Professor Snape's quarters. As it was, she barely noticed. 

"Accidents happen," Professor Snape was saying. "You can't pay attention to every single student at every single moment. How often did you yourself prevent mister Potter or mister Longbottom from making such a mistake? Students often don't pay attention, and not every class has a student like you."

Hermione blushed. The way he said it, you could almost think it was a compliment.

\--

After she oversaw her first detention, Hermione checked in with Professor Snape.

"I think you were right," she said. "They probably thought they'd get away with it because I'm young and scared."

"Of course I was," Professor Snape answered, not looking up from his book. "Don't worry, though. You've still got time to become scary."

Hermione pondered that for a moment, one hand still on the doorknob, unsure whether she'd be welcome inside.

"Why do you teach?" she asked, and now he did look up, an expression of annoyance and resignation on his face.

"It's the only life I know."

\--

After her own Potions lesson - the last of the week - she stayed behind, her heart pounding in her chest. She urged Harry and Ron on, citing boring professor business as her excuse, and the boys happily left to start their weekend.

"Sir," she began, her voice shaking. How was it that this was so much more frightening than teaching even second-year Ravenclaws?

"Miss Granger," he replied, one eyebrow raised in an expression she'd come to recognize as 'I'm listening, go on'.

"I'dliketorewritethetextbook," she blurted out, grimacing as it all jumbled into one word.

"With your permission, of course," she added.

\--

Hermione floated through her weekend. Severus - she'd started calling him Severus in her head, now, though she knew better than to try it in person - hadn't immediately acquiesced.

But once she had shown him her second-years' Sleeping Draughts, which she knew for a fact were better than anything her year had even produced because she'd first led a debate on the merits of starting with either the lavender or the valerian, he'd given in.

She was allowed to rewrite the first-year textbook, as long as she credited him. Which she had obviously planned on doing.

Her heart skipped another beat.

\--

"Crucio!"

Hermione took off in a run; that had been Severus' voice. Was he under attack? In danger? In need of assistance?

As she rounded the corner of his lab, wand raised at the ready, she saw him standing over some rats, a smile on his face as he crucio'd them one by one. The poor creatures were running around, trying to avoid the green light that erupted from Severus' wand.

Hermione turned around, fighting against the bile rising in her throat.

A braver Gryffindor would have confronted him, stood up to him.

All she wanted was to get away.

\--

The Cruciatus Curse.

Hermione paced the Prefects' bathroom, the most private place she could think of to sort out her thoughts.

An unforgivable. A curse you have to truly mean. What dark thoughts, what anger, was Severus drawing on? Why would he go about torturing random rats? Was it simply what he did for fun? She had rarely seen him smile with such... contentment.

Was this who he truly was? Were all the rumours, all the hatred from the students, all justified? Had she been silly and naive for believing he was a person underneath it all, just like her?

\--

Fear of Professor Snape lodged itself into the back of her mind. No matter how much she poked at it, how much she pushed it away, it was always there, whispering. The comfortable familiarity that had started to assert itself was gone, replaced by an ever-present wariness.

Though he had been nothing but kind ever since she became his assistant, Hermione now looked for hidden meanings in everything he did. Maybe this had all been an elaborate set-up to torture her, first mentally, then physically?

If causing her pain was his goal, he was succeeding.

She would not let him.

\--

Determined to be the better person, Hermione focused on rewriting the textbook. After all, the man was still a genius, and hundreds of students would be able to benefit from his work for years to come, without having to endure his sadistic streak. This could mean something to so many people.

She ran stuff by Harry, by Neville; she concentrated on getting her point across clearly, on explaining everything so even the students without any magical, chemical or botanical background would be able to follow.

In short, she wrote the book she'd wanted to read when she came to Hogwarts.

\--

Easter holiday had settled over Hogwarts, and Hermione was staring at the syllabus. She'd finished it weeks ago, but presenting it to Professor Snape would mean spending time with him in close quarters, something she'd been avoiding since that day in the lab.

She was afraid of his reaction. Afraid she'd mucked it up, afraid he'd laugh at her. It hadn't been that long ago he'd called her a know-it-all, and this whole endeavour was the epitome of knowing things better.

Sure, he'd given her his blessing, but what if he'd just done that because rejection would hurt more later?

\--

"You're shaking, Miss Granger, sit down."

Hermione flinched at the kindness; even more so when Professor Snape began to peruse the syllabus, praising her efficiency, understandable writing and well-organized division between recipes and theory.

"I will make some notes," he said, "and after a few revisions, we will publish it. I am certain our students will benefit greatly."

Hermione stared at him.

"I am able to recognize good work, Miss Granger," he said, impatience colouring his voice. "You haven't shown creativity or true understanding before. I will not praise regurgitation, as it holds no meaning. This, however, shows real intelligence."

\--

"Sir?"

Hermione stood at the entry to the lab, having gathered all her courage.

"Why are you crucio'ing rats?"

Professor Snape turned around, her eyes pinning her in place. She looked back at him, refusing to show the fear that had been gnawing at her for months.

She could be brave.

"The Cruciatus Curse was a favourite of many Death Eaters," he said. "After the war, I made it my mission to ensure nobody would have to go through that again. I'm working on a potion that will prevent the curse from taking hold."

"A vaccine," Hermione breathed. "That's amazing."

\--

"Let me help," she said, returning the next day.

"You want to crucio rats?" Severus asked - back to Severus, she didn't have to be scared anymore, never had to have been - and Hermione smiled.

"I want to help with the recipe," she said. "I do realise your Potions skills far exceed mine, but, even so, another pair of eyes and Arithmancy knowledge might be of use."

She held her breath; if he refused, she'd go back to simply being know-it-all Hermione Granger. His praise, however nice to hear, had held no meaning. If he accepted, she'd be more.

She'd matter.

\--

Hermione puzzled over the calculations she had collected. There was a distinct link between the word crucio and a cross; she felt like the opposite was needed to prevent the curse from taking hold. She held her breath as she started on a circular formula, and everything fit like a glove.

"I've got it!" she exclaimed, furiously blushing as the other students in the library stared at her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and started packing her things. The moment she'd left the library, she let herself celebrate, and her shouted "Eureka!" echoed through the halls.

She figured she'd earned it.

\--

Hermione watched as Severus cursed the next batch of rats - it no longer terrified her, though she was still curious what anger he was drawing upon. Goosebumps broke out over her skin as he put more and more force into it, and still nothing happened.

"It worked," Severus said, wonder in his voice, and Hermione jumped up from her chair. "We did it."

It was the 'we' that truly did her in; she flew into his arms, and kissed him on the lips.

"We did it," she almost giggled into his mouth, giddy with their achievement, and fled the lab.

\--

"What did he do now?" Harry asked.

"Huh?" Hermione looked up, her thought pattern - IkissedhimIkissedhimIkissedhimIkissedhim - broken by Harry's words.

"You're pacing," he pointed out. "That usually means something's wrong. And usually that's Snape's fault."

"Professor Snape," she corrected Harry - IkissedhimIkissedhimIkissedhimIkissedhim - "And no, nothing happened. Nothing's wrong. I'm perfectly fine. Happy. Thrilled even."

She could hear her voice getting out of control, and apparently Harry could too, as he led her to sit down.

"I might have done something stupid," she moaned.

"In my experience," Harry mused. "When you do things that seem stupid, they actually make a lot of sense."

\--

Severus was avoiding her. She couldn't blame him, but the school year was almost over, and this was her last year. She could not, would not, let it end like this.

She'd even tried provoking a detention, but he hadn't risen to the bait.

Which meant it was time for drastic measures. She was a Gryffindor, after all.

She went to the door of his quarters, and started casting spells to try and open it. Surely Severus couldn't stay away from an attempt at breaking and entering.

It was fun, actually, trying to see whether she could break his wards.

\--

"If you're done violating my privacy," Severus drawled, and Hermione almost dropped her wand.

"I wanted to talk to you, sir," she said, drawing on all the courage she possessed.

"You couldn't find a less aggressive way?"

"I did try, sir," she pointed out.

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and Hermione could feel him sizing her up. Not physically, oh no, but emotionally, intellectually. The really vulnerable parts of her. She took a breath, opened up, allowed him to see her.

Never before in her entire life had she done something so bold and so brave.  
-

She was in his quarters.

Her heart beat a mile a minute.

"I would like to stay," she said, pushing the words out before she could lose her nerve. "We could share professorial duties. You could continue researching. I could pursue further studies. We could make it work. We could make everything work!"

"Your youth makes you so brazen," he murmured, then put a finger on Hermione's lips as she started to protest. "That's a good thing. I could use brazen."

"Sir,..." she managed to get out.

"Call me Severus," he whispered, and he swept her up in a kiss.


End file.
